


Forget Me Not

by Jenshih_Blue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2012-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-10 12:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenshih_Blue/pseuds/Jenshih_Blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam understands far more than Dean is willing to give him credit for, but he doesn’t blame him for hiding things. They both deal with their lives this way; he doubts it will ever change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget Me Not

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scene includes spoilers for S7 Ep2 “Hello, Cruel World” and mentions of S1 and S2 
> 
> OMG! Did I just write a Dean/Cas fic? Holy shit-balls, Batman!

_Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of Heaven,_

_Blossom the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels._

_Evangeline_ , Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

 

 

After they left the reservoir, Dean was quite, far quieter than he normally was when trying to sort shit out in his head. Sam might be exhausted, teetering on the edge of fucking insanity, but he wasn’t blind—not even close.

            He’d seen the look in Dean’s eyes as he’d lifted Castiel’s coat from the murky waters an intimate look he knew well. He’d seen it after Cassie had pushed Dean away years ago in Cape Girardeau, when Dad died, after Ellen and Jo’s sacrifice, and more recent when he’d lost Ben and Lisa forever. Deep in his chest, Sam’s heart ached with the realization he couldn’t help with this anymore than he had the previous moments. Hell, he couldn’t even help himself.

            Sam has always understood more than Dean gave him credit for, but he didn’t blame him for hiding things beneath his mask of _I’m fine._ They both dealt with their lives this way—always had—and he doubted it would ever change. What he did know was no matter how many years passed Dean would never forget.

            He’d known from the moment Castiel had appeared in their lives there was a unique aura about the angel. Dean found it difficult at first believing Castiel was what he claimed—Sam hadn’t. Sam had always believed in angels and God despite what had happened back in Rhode Island. Even before he laid eyes on Castiel, he believed. After he met Castiel, he had his doubts about what—if anything—God wanted from humanity. He lost a bit of his faith, but it had never vanished all together.

            When Dean had lost faith in Castiel, Sam hadn’t. He’d known in his soul Castiel remained within his vessel, lost in a tangled mess of souls released from Purgatory, and he hoped they could save him. In a way, he’d seen himself in Castiel—lost and seeking redemption for mistakes they’d both made. One prayer was all it took and their wayward angelic brother had returned to beg for help.

            Now he was gone and another crack was working its way through his brother’s shattered psyche. What had been between Dean and Castiel was special in a way no one could understand. Familial, yet it was so much more than that. Castiel had lifted his brother from the depths of Hell, resurrected him into the physical world with the help of God—or so Cas believed. It didn’t matter in the end whether God’s hand had been involved or not. He’d returned Dean to Sam when Sam needed his brother more than he knew.

            Much later, he’d tried to accomplish the same thing when Sam sacrificed himself for the world in an attempt at redemption for releasing Lucifer. He’d failed to draw the most important part of Sam out of the Cage, but the point was he’d tried. Once Death returned his soul, Sam understood how Dean felt about Castiel, and there were no words to describe it. All Sam knew was he would never forget what Castiel had done—defying Heaven and Hell—to free him from Lucifer’s grip.

            They’d stopped at a gas station off the highway on the way back to Bobby’s to fill up the car. Sam offered to pay. Dean seemed lost in thought as he’d nodded and Sam headed in to take care of business. Paying for the gas and grabbing a case of beer, he’d headed back to the car where Dean sat on the trunk waiting as the gas pumped. Sam understood Dean was doing something he always did when he lost an important piece of his life.

            Years ago, right after Cassie (and he still had a serious bone to pick with her) he’d happened upon Dean’s well-kept secret. He was damned sure Dean knew he’d found his secret stash even though he’d never spoke a word about it. Beneath the false bottom where they kept their weapons stored, stashed in the furthest corner, was an ammo box hid beneath a tarp, sealed with a padlock.

            What possessed Sam to pick the lock, he couldn’t say, but he did and the rest—well, the rest was history. He’d found something he was positive Dean wanted no one to see, a box filled with memories he refused to acknowledge. Inside were bits and pieces of a life lived on the road with no home to speak of beyond a ’67 Chevy Impala.

            Some things he recognized and others he didn’t. The one thing that hit him hard was a letter, worn and stained—the letter he’d received from Stanford when he was eighteen. He’d always wondered where it had gone. Among the things, he recognized; a lock of Cassie’s hair tied with a ribbon, faded family photos given to them by Jenny back in Lawrence, and Lucas’ drawings.

            Much later, Dean would add John’s wedding ring to the box.

            Sam understood his brother more after his discovery.

            Now Dean sat next to Castiel’s coat spread out and drying in the warm sun. Sam said nothing. What could he say? Castiel was gone and Dean’s heart was breaking even if he wouldn’t admit it. He knew Dean would survive this as he’d survived so many other things in the only way he knew how. That didn’t mean it hurt any less.

            He cleared his throat as he approached the car and Dean glanced up, eyes shielded by one hand. There was a loneliness emanating from his posture only Sam could see. Dean was good at hiding shit when he wanted except from his brother. They’d carried one another so many times they’d both lost count and it had started when John thrust Sam into Dean’s arms nearly thirty years before.

            “Got some beer, figured Bobby was running low.”

            “Cool.”

            Before Dean could say anything else (not that Sam thought he would) the gas pump pinged and he slid off the trunk to remove the nozzle. Adept at pretending nothing was wrong, Sam tucked the beer in the back floorboard and took his place in the passenger seat. His gaze though followed Dean’s movements in the rearview mirror until the trunk lid lifted to hide him from sight. There was the rattle of keys and the sound of something shifting. When the trunk closed, there was no sign of Castiel’s coat; Dean’s loneliness packed away with it. If it had been anyone else except Dean, he would have thought he’d lost a lover. Maybe—in a strange spiritual way—he had.

 

 

Later that night, after silence had settled over Bobby’s house and Sam couldn’t sleep, the hallucinations returned. He was sitting at the kitchen table laptop in front of him, bluish glow casting his face in a deathly pallor. Too damn tired to care he continued to research the Leviathans as Lucifer pulled up a chair, perching on the back as if he were a vulture waiting for Sam to take his last breath.

            “You know, Sam, I was there when God created them.”

            Sam rolled his eyes, glaring up from beneath his eyebrows. “Bullshit.”

            Clicking his tongue, Lucifer wagged one finger at Sam. “Language, Sam.”

            With a huff, Sam pushed back from the computer, arms folded over his chest. “That’s real funny coming from you.”

            Lucifer leapt from the chair, landing light as the proverbial feather on his feet. He sighed, wounded expression in his eyes. “Is it necessary to bring that up? As I’ve explained before I did no wrong.”

            It was Sam’s turn to sigh. Even imaginary Lucifer was full of shit. “You are not real.”

Leaning forward he picked up the half-empty long neck and drank. The alcohol probably wasn’t a good idea, but he was tired of feeling like this.

            “Sammy, Sammy.” Lucifer shook his head. “You can deny me all you like, but I’m here for the long haul. That irritating ball of feathers is gone now so there will be no spackling the old skull back together.” he tapped his temple lightly. “You’re stuck with me, sunshine.”

            “Cas isn’t gone.” Sam whispered as he fingered the lip of his beer bottle. “I would know if he was.”

            Dropping to his haunches, Lucifer tipped his head to the side, studying Sam for a moment before he exhaled; sound overtly loud in the silence. “And what makes you think that? What makes you so special?”

            Sam lifted his head and met that icy blue stare. “I’m not, but Castiel is.”

            A snort escaped Lucifer. “Is he?”

            “You tried to destroy him and so did Raphael. Neither one of you succeeded.”

            Lifting to his feet Lucifer loomed over Sam as he smiled. “What are you saying? That my Father, absentee Father I might add, sees that runt as a favored child?”

            Sam’s smile grew wider. “You said it—I didn’t—asshole.”

            “Sam, you okay, kid?”

            Turning Sam met Bobby’s worried gaze for a split-second and then turned back to an empty room. “Yeah,” he mumbled, “for now.”

 

 

 After, his late night conversation with Lucifer and Bobby giving him the _what for_ over not sleeping and humoring his hallucinations, Sam tried to sleep. It didn’t go well and he gave up at some point as the sky began to lighten, dawn approaching.

            Getting dressed, he slipped out into the cool pre-dawn air and inhaled. He felt better just for breathing the country air and he figured a run might help him clear the cobwebs from his mind. All he wanted was to forget the things they’d lost and the things they’d suffered in the name of righteousness.

            Sam took a path through the nearby woods letting his thoughts focus on the beauty around him. He’d been running for about twenty minutes when he came across a stream meandering through the trees and something bright caught his eye. He moved to the edge of muddy embankment careful not to lose his footing.

            There stretching up from the rich earth, leaves spread wide, faces turned to the morning light piercing the tree branches was a cluster of small blue flowers. The color reminded him of Castiel’s eyes and the thought closed his throat up. Dean wasn’t the only one that had lost Castiel, he thought. The grief he hadn’t realized before came to the surface his chest aching with it.

            He reached out with one trembling hand and plucked a single stem of the delicate flowers, lifting them to inhale their scent. Everything seemed to drift away on the fragrance and some piece of his shattered mind whispered— _it will be okay._ Without another thought, he turned and ran back toward Bobby’s as if on winged feet.

 

 

The crashing of glass breaking downstairs, followed by a colorful string of curses sent the Winchesters running downstairs, weapons at ready. What greeted them was a frazzled Bobby standing at the base of the stairs, eyebrows drawn together in a deep frown, and scratching head beneath his tipped back hat.

            “What the hell, Bobby?” Dean demanded. “You scared the crap out of us.”

            Bobby chuckled, head shaking. “Sorry, boys, but I got to ask. Sam, could your hallucinations be contagious?”

            His eyes went wide as he shook his own head. “No, what kind of question is that?”

            “Then I’m thinking we have a sign in the kitchen.” Bobby stepped aside as Sam and Dean entered the kitchen.

            Dean made a choking noise before he backed up a step, bumping into Sam. “I’ll say it again. What the hell?”

            Lifting his gaze from Dean’s bone white face, Sam swallowed hard at the sight greeting him. He’d been here just an hour before, coming in the back door from his run. There had been nothing out of the ordinary and then he recalled the empty beer bottle he’d filled with water. How he’d placed the stem of flowers in it and sat it in the center of the kitchen table before heading upstairs to shower.

            There was no sign of the bottle now.

            Of, course you couldn’t see much of anything now.

            A tangle of vine like roots covered every available surface in the room, tall stems sprouting and stretching toward the windows where sunlight struggled to pierce the dirty glass. Clusters of tiny blue flowers swaying in the faint breeze drifting through the backdoor’s screen.

            Both brothers jumped when Bobby clapped them on the back. “Either one of you idgits care to explain why my kitchen is overgrown with forget-me-nots?”

            Sam sucked in a ragged breath and turned to Dean whose eyes had widened so far they looked too damn big for his face. “Dean…you okay?”

            “Forget-me-nots…did you say forget-me-nots?” Dean whispered, eyes beginning to well up. “Tell me I didn’t hear you right, Bobby.”

            “You heard me just fine, boy. It ain’t like…” Bobby’s voice trailed off mid-sentence. “Son of a bitch! There’s no way it could...”

            Dean’s voice cracked, “Why not, Bobby?”

            “I don’t get it.” Sam glanced from his brother to the older man.

            Walking into the room without another word, Dean’s fingers grazed the delicate blossoms, faint sad smile on his face. As Sam watched him, Bobby stepped up patting him on the back.

            “Don’t be too hard on yourself, son. Few folks recall the stories of legend. There’s a 15th century German legend if I recall right where, a knight and his beloved were walking along a river. He bent to pick a posy of flowers, but his armor was so heavy he toppled into the water. As he was drowning, he tossed the flowers to his beloved and shouted ‘Forget-me-not’ before sinking beneath."

            Sam glanced back to where Dean stood surrounded by flowers and his heart raced with what he could only describe as joy. Perhaps, he’d known and understood more than he ever imagined. Somehow, the bond between Castiel and his brother transcended not just Heaven and Earth, but death itself it seemed.

            Then again, perhaps Castiel wasn’t dead at all.

~Finis~


End file.
